


Here's to the Night

by madamebomb



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4881091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamebomb/pseuds/madamebomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephanie Brown, now patrolling Gotham as Nightwing, has a problem in the form of the sexy vigilante known as Redbird. The problem? She has feelings for him. The bigger problem? Redbird is really Damian Wayne, all grown up, and with a hunger in his eyes that is only for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Brown,” he said behind her, his voice echoing through the cave. His voice was like thunder. Or maybe lightning. It hit her with a jolt, sending sparks scattering down her spine. Her hands tightened into fists, her throat closing as the air was momentarily knocked out of her. She could feel him behind her, too close. He smelled like the city, like the night, and the rain. Like cold steel and bruised knuckles.   
  
“What do you want?” Stephanie managed, half-turning in place so that she could see him out the corner of her eye. Shadows clung to him like cobwebs, putting hollows in his cheeks, cupping the strong line of his nose, nesting in the dark places of his eyes. Even beneath the mask, she could see the glitter of his eyes, that hard gleam of blue that meant trouble. Trouble for her. For them. It scared her.   
  
 _He_  scared her.

“I think you know,” he answered softly, almost grudgingly. He stepped closer and she could feel the heat of him at her back. He loomed over her and not for the first time she found herself a little shocked at his height, the width of his shoulders, the architecture of his arms, the breath-taking sculpture of a body honed by years of fighting, and carefully cultured genetics. He wasn’t the little boy she’d once known. He hadn’t been for years now. Maybe he never had been.

“Redbird–” she started, but his hand was suddenly on her waist, nestling in the curve like it had always been there. She could feel the weight of it, the banked strength, even through the body armor of her costume. Her body felt too hot all of a sudden. Her mouth was suddenly dry. Her pulse skyrocketed.

“Damian,” he corrected her with a murmur. “We’re not in the field now.”

“Maybe we should be?” she said, even as he pressed his chest against her back, his breath on her ear, stirring the blonde hair she’d hastily braided hours ago. Now the braid was half-undone, battered by the wind and the fight at the warehouse. His other hand lifted, tugging the braid off of her shoulder and down her back. “Redbird and Nightwing should be on the streets. With Bruce and Tim in Hong Kong on business, and Dick gone with the Justice League, Gotham needs us.”

“Dawn is coming. We don’t have to be anywhere,” Damian said, his breath hot as it whispered against her ear. A shiver took hold of her and she fought to control it. His fingers combed through her hair, loosening the braid, the elastic band lost to the darkness. She could feel his face in her hair as he breathed in her scent. “Except here.”

“Damian, we–” she started again, her body stiffening. She should walk away. She shouldn’t stand there, with his hand on her waist, his warmth at her back, his breath on her neck. He was so close. Too close. Her chest felt tight, like she might have a panic attack any moment.

“Stephanie,” Damian said, the dry touch of his lips just at her ear. The sound of her name was like a hot brand. She couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move. The swirling vortex of panic in her chest was turning into a black hole. Her toes tingled inside of her boots. Her hands clenched up, fighting to hold on, not to give in. Because she doesn’t feel the same way. She doesn’t.

“What are you doing?” She hated the way her words trembled. She was older. In control. She should be stopping this. Pushing him back. Giving him a piece of her mind. 

But she couldn’t. And she doesn’t. All she could seem to think of was how his mouth had felt against hers at the docks. How his arms had felt around her. How she had actually felt disappointed when Batwoman had come over the comm, interrupting them. She’d been trying not to think about it all week, and failing miserably.

“What I should have done a long damned time ago,” he said, and the hand on her waist slid up and around, his palm spreading on her stomach, over the Kevlar bodice of her costume. His fingers molded her breasts for one breath-stealing moment. Then he grabbed the hidden zipper on the front of her costume and pulled it down slowly. She hitched in a breath, unable to do anything but stand there, torn between jamming her elbow back into his ribs and turning around to wrap her arms around him and finish what they’d started at the docks. His voice was a moan. “Steph…”

Her hand lifted, covering his just as the zipper cleared her breasts. “Damian, stop.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“No, I  _really_ do not.”

“Because it’s you. And it’s me,” Stephanie said, turning her head to catch a glimpse of his blue gaze, which hit hers like a wave of heat. “And because your dad is the goddamned Batman. He’ll punch me through a wall.”

The corners of his mouth quirked up, showing her the faintest hint of a dimple in his right cheek. “Father is well aware of the fact that I’m sexually active.”

“We  _all_ are. Billionaire playboy’s son dating half of the high society women and girls of Gotham kind of makes the news.” The bitterness in her voice was actually kind of surprising. She hadn’t thought that she was bitter. Damian had followed in his father’s footsteps in more ways than one, and he’d been seen with countless women since he’d turned sixteen and been labeled as eligible by Gotham’s elite. Maybe she’d just thought he was more choosey than that.

Or maybe she was jealous. She wouldn’t admit that to him though. Not even if someone paid her.

“I have appearances to keep up. I do what I want. With whomever I want. And there's  _no one_ I want more than you, Stephanie.”

A blush hit her cheeks as she turned in his arms, one gloved hand lifting to touch him in the center of his chest. Even through the protective layers of his costume, she could feel the muscle and strength that made him up. He looked so like his father…and yet so not at the same time. The way he was looking at her made her whole body feel flushed. She’d been fighting this feeling for a long time now. And until last week, she’d been winning.

_Damn my stupid, betraying lips. And his stupid, heroic ass for nearly drowning on me._

“You don’t mean that. It’s just a crush. It’ll pass.”

“I’ve been saying that for ten years,” he said a little wearily. 

She wasn’t surprised to hear it. She’d known he had a crush on her for a long time. She’d even thought it was cute at one time, harmless and a bit charming. And then he’d grown up on her…and things got complicated. 

He continued, “I thought for so long that you would never look at me the way I wanted you to. I thought you’d always see me as a child. I had almost reconciled myself to that. And then…last week…”

“That was a fluke. I was just, um, glad you weren’t dead,” she said airily, and the words sounded fake as they echoed through the cave.

“I can always tell when you’re lying,” he said, fiddling with the zipper on her costume now. He nibbled on his lower lip in a way that made heat creep up her cheeks. As dank and chill as the cave was, she was sweating now. And breathing a bit harder than normal. And she knew that he had noticed.

_Calm down,_ she told herself. But there was no calming her down. Stuck there between what she wanted and what she shouldn’t do, she was scared to death. And he knew it. She watched his fingers slide her zipper down, inch by slow inch. His forehead touched hers, his dark hair loose against his forehead.

“Damian…” Stephanie says as hers hands found his narrow hips. He moved into her slowly, his hips against hers as he pinned her back against the lab table. Her fingers dug into his waist, their mouths close enough to touch, but not quite. So damned close.

“I want you,” he murmured. “I have always wanted you. The way you think, the way you move, the way you laugh. Even that damnable stubbornness of yours. You turn me on, Brown.”

_Help! Send a rescue party! I’m a goner._ There was just something about the way his voice sounded, so close to her skin that she could feel the tremors of it running through her. She had no protection against it. And she knew she couldn’t hide it any longer. She wanted him. She’d wanted him for longer than she cared to admit and she could have him. Right now. 

Hot electric tingles shot through her as her chin lifted. She couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop it. This wasn’t like at the docks, when she’d been stressed and her guard was down. This was deliberate. And this had been coming for a long damned time. He was too right about that.

Their noses brushed as her mouth sought his and the first touch of their lips made a moan live and die in her throat. One of his gloved hands lifted, sliding around her neck. She expected him to jerk her toward him, but his hand was gentle and his mouth was the barest of ghosts against hers. It affected her nonetheless. Their lips tucked together, dragging dryly against each other. His breath was hot and she caught the faintest hint of rich coffee. She ached for more, her chin lifting against his, her hands digging into his waist. He didn’t seem to want to deepen the kiss and she realized that he was letting her make the rules. 

She hadn’t thought he had it in him.

Stephanie broke the kiss by turning her head away. Damian let out a ragged breath, stirring the hair at her temple, and she feel a tremor go through him. He was definitely holding himself back.

“Steph…” he started in a tortured voice as she turned back to stare him directly in the eyes.

“If you’re going to kiss me, fucking  _kiss me,_ ” she said with a flash of her eyes. The effect on him was immediate. His gaze flicked to her mouth for one brief, intense moment, and then his tongue darted out, wetting his lips with a wicked swipe that had her all kinds of hot and bothered. Her hand lifted, grasping the collar of his red and black costume. When she yanked him toward her, he didn’t resist. Their mouths dashed together, pressing hard, moving into each other in all the ways that counted. All of the ways that mattered.

She moaned as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss as his tongue flicked against her lips. She was too eager for him, her heart banging inside of her chest like a drum. Their tongues met, sliding together with a slick heat. Her arm snaked around his neck, fingers digging into his thick, dark hair. He moved into her, a deep sound of pleasure purring up out of his throat as as their hips crashed together. His hand was on her lower back, both pulling her closer and pushing her against the table at the same time. His mouth was hot and the hint of coffee on his tongue hit her like a rush of sugar. His stubble razed her skin in a delicious way. She kissed him harder, trying to move into his skin, trying to scratch the itch he’d caused inside of her.

It wasn’t enough. She needed more. Needed him. Needed his skin against hers.

She found his zipper and before the part of her mind still freaking out about what she was doing could protest, she had it unzipped down to his stomach. The armored material fell open, gaping, revealing his muscled chest. Damian smiled against her mouth–another pleasing surprise–and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her without any effort. He set her down on the edge of the table and her legs wrapped around him, pulling him against her. He kissed her harder, almost desperately. She tugged her gloves off and threw them onto the floor of the cave. She just needed to touch him…

Her hand shoved inside of the open zipper of his costume, flattening along his abs and up to his rock hard chest. His skin was like lava, hot and molten. The feel of it set a fire in her. His muscles rippled beneath her touch, and she knew he was still holding himself back. This man was a killer. She’d seen it. Seen him struggling with it. He could devastate with this body. And right now he was  _destroying_ her.

His tongue dived against hers, dipping and flicking, surprising her with the playfulness in it. Damian wasn’t playful as a general rule, but she liked it. No, she loved it. It seems all those years of her trying to get him to lighten up had finally sunken in. He growled– _sweet baby Jesus_ –he growled when her teeth tugged at his lips a little, and then he was kissing her all the harder, his mouth dashing against hers. His kisses are so deep she was drowning in them. She felt him shift against her as he tugged off his gloves and threw them down with hers.

The next instant, his fingertips ran lightly along her cheeks, sweeping back along the crest of her cheekbones, gently carding through the hair at her temples and curling around her ears, then down her neck, where he flattened his palms against the back of her neck, moving her head a fraction of an inch so that the angle of their kisses changed. His mouth on hers was torturous, insistent and scorching hot. Hers hands played along his bare skin, the backs of her fingers and knuckles scraping, caressing his flanks. He moaned against her mouth again and she clasped his lower back, nails digging into his hot skin, pulling him even closer. Their bodies crashed into one another, her breasts crushed against the wall of his chest. One of the hands on the back of her neck slid down, around her collar, and landed on the zipper he’d been playing with before.

She didn’t stop him this time. He wasn’t in a hurry either. He pulled it down slowly, like he knew that she wanted her costume off just as badly as he did. And he was making her pay for it. Oh, the bastard… The smug bastard. There was a second zipper on her Kevlar bustier. His hand fumbled on it for a moment and then he jerked it down and roughly shoved the sides open.

Damian pulled away from her mouth with one last tug of her lips between his. He panted in front of her, his gaze hot and heavy behind his black domino. His gaze tore away from hers as she tucked her legs tighter around his torso, feet crossed at the ankles. His eyes flicked down to the open sides of her costume, down to the generous expanse of cleavage his work had revealed. Something flashed in his eyes, something like greed and triumph and hell, maybe just sheer awe, she wasn’t sure. But she could see that dimple in his cheek again.

His hand lifted, one finger dragging down the center of her body, between her breasts. She still felt sweaty and overheated and his touch didn’t help matters. The drag of his fingertip was like the first strike of a match on a matchbook. Everything was catching fire now.

Damian bent at the waist, his mouth landing on the center of her chest. Her head went back as his hot mouth dragged along her skin. He pulled at her flesh with his teeth, tugging at her as he made his way toward her left breast. One of her hands made its way into his hair, her back arching as he mumbled something she couldn’t quite make out. The next moment his lips closed over her nipple, pulling on it so hard she gasped and shuddered. Fire raced through her, hard and deep.

“Damian…” she choked around another deep moan as his teeth and tongue made a complete mockery of her. She was definitely not in control now. Not even a little bit. He let go of her breast with a deep suck and found her mouth again. She kissed him back, her other hand sliding down and gripping his ass hard. He surged into her again, rubbing against the cleft of her body. Promising her more trouble, and more pleasure.

And that was, of course, when Alfred opened the door at the top of the stairs, admitting reality and the smell of a full English breakfast into the Bat Cave.

“Master Damian?” Alfred called from the stairs, too far away to see them in the corner, in the shadows. Or at least she hoped so. Damian cursed as they broke apart, his gaze darting toward the stairs with a murderous flick. Her heart had drummed out of control the moment she’d heard the creak of the door, and now it was dancing a conga behind her ribs as panic set in. “I’ve made breakfast, sir.”

_What the hell am I doing? What would Bruce think? What would Dick and Babs and…oh, fuck me twice, what would Tim think? …And do I even care?_

“I’ll be there in a moment, Pennyworth,” Damian said, in what she thought was supposed to be a normal voice, but it came out sounding flat out pissed off, in her opinion. Damian turned back to her and whispered, “This isn’t over.”

]She wasn’t sure it wasn’t though, but she doesn’t tell him that. Her legs unlocked from the back of his powerful thighs as her shaking hands grasped the zipper of her bustier. She got it closed within seconds. Alfred was still on the stairs–he was not as spry as he used to be and she wished that Bruce or Damian would make him use the elevator instead of the stairs he insisted that he could still handle. But no one listened to her. Nothing new there.

]Damian zipped his costume back and stepped away from her without looking back, but she could see his agitation and frustration in the line of his broad shoulders, and the way his fists were curling and uncurling. She zipped her costume back up and hopped off of the table, following Damian just as Alfred stepped off of the stairs. He had a silver tray in his hands. As discombobulated as she was, the food still smelled heavenly. Fighting crime burned a lot of calories.

_So does having the balls to make out with Batman’s son in the freaking Bat Cave._

“Oh, Miss Brown. I didn’t know Nightwing was gracing us with her presence tonight,” Alfred said, no doubt noting the disheveled state of her hair and the high flush on Damian’s dark cheeks. Damian didn’t say a word though.

“Just stopping in, hoping for some of your waffles,” she said in a semi-normal voice. Well, if you counted high-pitched and comically light as normal.

“Like his father, I’m afraid Master Damian prefers something a little less doused in syrup after a patrol. I could make you some, if you’d like,” he replied in a crisp voice, glancing at Damian and the way he was glaring at him like an undersized bat, then at her, looking probably about as guilty as a kid with their hand in the cookie jar, and then to their gloves on the floor where they’d just thrown them. She was suddenly remembering the fact that the Cave had security cameras everywhere… What in God’s name was she thinking?

“It’s okay. I really should be going. I have work this afternoon and I need some sleep. Bye,” Stephanie says in a rush and then headed for her parked motorcycle. She could feel Alfred’s eyes on her, judging her. Her legs shook a little.

_Oh lord, he knows. He totally knows that I was macking on Damian. Do people even still say macking? Oh God, I’m old._

She swung her leg over the bike and kick-started it. She reached for the throttle, but a hand came down on hers, stopping her. She looked up into Damian’s heated eyes and saw lust there, and frustration. He would have to be an idiot not to see the fear and regret in hers. Damian was a lot of things, but he was not an idiot.

“Brown, I…”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and had to look away. Some emotion she couldn’t quite name had flickered through his eyes. Something that made her uneasy. It kind of made her feel like prey. “See you on the streets, Redbird.”

She took off, leaving him standing there in the cave, the burn of his intense gaze on her retreating back. She knew it wasn’t over. She was in way over her head. And she only had herself to blame.


	2. Chapter 2

_Nightwing’s Private Files:_  
_Personal Journal_  
_Encrypted Entry 672:_  
  
“Damian Wayne is trouble. T-R-O-U-B-L-E. All capitals, with a flourish and several underlines. Maybe some exclamation points.  
  
So I’ve apparently lost my mind. After the incident at the docks last week, I was doing a very good job at ignoring what had happened. Well, if you count good as thinking about it every time my mind drifted at work or there was a slow moment between patrols. And I was avoiding him. I mean, what else could I do?   
  
Last night I got into a party situation with some petty thugs. It was a street gang robbery, the same gang I’ve been chasing around Old Town for the past couple of months. Nothing I couldn’t handle. But one of them pulled a gun and nearly got the jump on me. Redbird showed up out of nowhere and saved my ass. It’s not that I’m not grateful, but I didn’t know how to react.   
  
He scares me half to death with just one look. Damian Wayne is the most intense man I’ve ever met. He’s so single-minded when he wants something. He reminds me of his father in so many ways.   
  
We both got a little banged up in the fight–nothing serious–but  for some reason I agreed to follow him back to the Cave, knowing full well that we’d be alone. What the hell was I thinking?   
  
I just… _knew_  something was going to happen. The way he looked at me the minute we got to the Cave… I was a goner. Maybe I always have been.   
  
I’ve known that he was attracted to me for a long time. For years. I’d thought it was just a little crush; cute and harmless and therefore easily ignored on my part. He was just Robin then, tough, smartassed, arrogant little smug prick. I’d suspected he had a crush on me from the moment we met, but it was hard to tell through the snide remarks. Despite that, I’d like him. Not as a little brother, but a colleague in arms that happened to be a lot shorter than me. He certainly didn’t know how to act like other kids. It was hard to see him that way, though I tried to.   
  
But the older he got, the more I saw that his constant derision wasn’t exactly genuine. And the more I saw that I was in trouble. His crush had never gone away, and as time went on, the more I caught him watching me when he thought I wasn’t looking. He even took to following me home, watching from the rooftops. He thought I didn’t notice, but I did. I didn’t know what to do about it. I’d thought it was best to ignore it. He’d find someone his own age to date eventually, and I wouldn’t have to actually face the problem head on.   
  
Unfortunately, I was dead wrong.  
  
He was sixteen the first time he kissed me, and that was when I really knew I was up the proverbial creek. We’d been on patrol together, pretty routine, and he’d gotten a cut across his chest from the sword-weilding vigilante we’d taken down. I was in the middle of bandaging the wound, when he’d said my name. Not ‘Brown’, not 'Batgirl’, but my name. The look in his eyes was…well, I don’t know if anyone’s ever looked at me like that before. I just stared at him, shocked at the deep timbre of his voice, and the longing I heard there.   
  
And then he’d just lunged at me with no warning. He’d kissed me hard, grabbing my hair and pressing his mouth to mine like he’d been just dying to do it, and had had a fit of nerve and teenage hormones that couldn’t be ignored.    
  
I didn’t kiss him back. I had no clue what to even do. I remember pushing him away almost immediately, and seeing the look in his eyes. Like a wounded, feverish puppy, all hormones and frustration. I’d pitied him in that moment before I’d given him a piece of my mind. He hadn’t been happy with me back then. The feeling had been mutual.  
  
It had taken a long time for us to be comfortable around each other again. It probably helped that I hadn’t said anything to Bruce or Dick. And especially not to Tim. I did tell O though, and she’d actually thought it was adorable that "Bruce Junior” had a thing for me. Thanks for your help, O.

I think if I’d made it an issue and embarrassed him, it would have really bruised his ego. Even more than my pushing him away had. I don’t know what he would have done. He’d refused to talk about it and frankly, I was okay with trying to forget the incident had ever happened. It wasn’t nearly as easy to forget as I’d hoped though. Damian still watched me when he thought I wasn’t looking. He still followed me home. He was even a little overprotective of me out in the field.   
  
He’d dated once or twice, always society girls with good pedigree, pretty faces, and no brains. And blondes. Lots and lots of blondes. They were the exact opposite of what I thought his type would be. The press had dubbed him a chip off the old block. Maybe he’d done it for appearances, or maybe because he wanted to. I don’t pretend to know. He’d never stayed with anyone very long, and I’d never heard him talk about any of them. I’m not conceited enough to think that he wanted me to get jealous. Because I  _wasn’t._    
  
The second time he’d kissed me was two years ago at a Wayne Foundation benefit. He’d just turned eighteen and taken up the mantle of Redbird, and I’d been keenly aware of the fact that the teenager had just turned into a man on me. I hadn’t said no when he’d asked me to dance. I hadn’t even known he could. Maybe he held me too close, and maybe I let him. And maybe I’d drunk too much that night. And maybe I ignored the fact that he’d been sneaking glasses of Scotch from the bartender, who couldn’t keep her eyes off of the billionaire’s handsome son. And maybe, just maybe, I didn’t push him away when I should have.   
  
We’d never talked about it. I’d hoped he’d been drunk enough to forget the incident completely. I’m not even sure how it had happened. He’d offered to give me a ride home in the limo and realizing that I wasn’t going to be driving home in my condition, I’d accepted. I remember that he’d leaned across the seat to get the hem of my dress out of the door and as he’d leaned in, our gazes had met. I can still remember the look in those damned blue eyes of his. And the way his gaze had flicked to my lips in the split second before he slid his mouth over mine.

  
It had taken a bit longer to push him away than it should have…and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t kiss him back. Just a little. I attribute the whole thing to my utter lack of sobriety.  
  
I remember thinking that the society girls he’d gone out with had taught him a few things in the two years since he’d first kissed me. His mouth had been soft, questing, skilled. And the tongue he’d slipped between my lips had been confident, almost arrogant. He’d tasted of Scotch and caramels. By the time I got my hands up between us and shoved him back against the opposite door, I was panting for air, completely undone. I’d yelled a few unkind things at him. There may have been some cursing involved. And then I demanded the driver stop the car. I’d walked home in the rain, drunk, angry, guilty and utterly confused.  
  
I knew that Damian had followed me home. I’d felt his eyes on me the whole time, his kiss haunting me with every step.   
  
Things between us hadn’t been the same after that. I’d expected him to come onto me again, to try and convince me that he was an adult now and that it wasn’t like I was robbing the cradle or anything. He didn’t do any of those things. Not that I even wanted him to.   
  
But things had changed. I knew it. He knew it. Any time he caught my eye, the corners of his mouth would pull up just the tiniest bit. Most people might not have noticed. I did. Every time he touched me, it was like something hot had sparked in my stomach. I thought it was embarrassment over what had happened, but that wasn’t it. It was something different. I thought about the way his mouth had felt on mine way too often. The taste of him, the smell of his cologne, the way his hand had touched my neck to bring me closer.   
  
I tried to avoid him. I really, really did. But he was always there. There was always some supervillain to fight, a new mystery to solve, a bomb to defuse. We don’t live normal lives. We aren’t even remotely normal people, and I couldn’t seem to get away from Damian Wayne. Every time he touched me, it was like a flame in my guts, a hot pinch in my chest. I ignored it, pretended that things were the same as they’d always been. They weren’t.   
  
And Damian? He was as aware of it as I was. And he liked watching me squirm. On patrol, he’d lean in and whisper in my ear just to watch the goosebumps go down my neck. He found little excuses to touch me, his hand lingering on the small of my back, my waist. And the look in his eyes… I don’t know how it happened, but he just crept up on me. Slowly, then in a rush that I couldn’t resist, though I put up a fight.   
  
He scared me in so many ways. What could I do? How could I stop it? I tried and failed to ignore it, but I couldn’t. He was in me, dug in like a tick and I couldn’t get him out. I knew danger was ahead. I could see it looming. Something was going to happen. He’d lose control again, and kiss me…and how would I react? Once upon a time I would have had no trouble answering that, but I was no longer sure. I couldn’t trust myself.  
  
And that’s how I ended up kissing him on the docks last week, covered in smelly harbor water, with Damian lying flat on his back in front of me. Clayface had thrown him into the water and he’d hit his head. I rescued him, pulling him up from the bottom. I’d had to give him CPR on the docks, while Clayface got away. I didn’t care about that.   
  
It had taken too long for him to cough up the water he’d sucked in. His head bleeding, Damian had looked up at me through his mask and smiled, water on his lips. And he’d said my name again, in that same quiet, yearning tone that ignited every banked ember I’d ever tried to squash.   
  
And every damned bit of good sense I had was tossed straight out the proverbial window.  
  
I didn’t know what was happening, that I was even kissing him until he moaned against my mouth. My hands were in his wet hair. I was crying and cursing him between kisses. He pulled me across his body with one strong arm and curled around me, taking control like he hadn’t just nearly drowned. Like he’d only been waiting for his chance.  
  
He pressed me against the weather wood of the dock and kissed me hard.  _Really_  kissed me. I didn’t stop him. I remember that my heart was slamming in my chest, so hard it was painful. But Damian’s arms were strong, and warm and I liked feeling them around me.   
  
I’m not even sure how long we laid there, making out like horny teenagers. Anyone could have come along and seen Redbird and Nightwing making out, which would have made my night, let me tell you. It’s a good thing Batwoman came over the comm, asking for help in Crime Alley.   
  
I remember the look he gave me just before we left the docks. It was a look of promise. Of lust. Of…well, trouble. I was screwed. I knew it. He knew it.   
  
After we took care of business, I disappeared. I’d like to tell myself that he didn’t follow me home, that my stealthy retreating skills were a match for his, but I know better. He followed me home. But he didn’t press the issue.   
  
Not until last night, when I followed him back to the Cave. It didn’t take much to completely undo my resolve. I’ve been trying to tell myself for so long that I don’t want him.  
  
It’s a lie. I do want him. At least my body does. My brain is not exactly on board. It’s wrong, right? He’s an adult, but he’s still a boy in so many ways…..despite that body he’s grown into. Oof. There are so many reasons I shouldn’t go there. Not the least of which is the age gap.   
  
There’s my past with Tim. And what would Bruce think? And then there’s Alfred. I know he saw something in the Cave last night. He had to have. I lost my mind completely and forgot that there are cameras in the cave. Damian might not care, but I do.   
  
I don’t know what to do. I’m babbling to my computer screen right now because I’m scared. If Alfred hadn’t interrupted us, I would have done something stupid. Stupid and hot and wonderful. I know whatever this is between us isn’t finished, even though I ran out of there like a coward.   
  
Damian Wayne is trouble. I’m going to take the coward’s way out and avoid him, but if I know him he’ll show up when I least expect him. And the minute he looks at me with those blue eyes I’m a goner.   
  
It’s only a matter of time.   
  
I am so screwed.“


	3. Chapter 3

_I am_ not _thinking about him_ , Stephanie thought for the hundredth time that night, dragging her mind away from the dark places it wanted to roam. Instead, she concentrated on the rain-lashed street below her.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. It was a miserable night, the kind of night anyone sane would spend indoors with a good book and a hot cup of tea. A smile touched her lips briefly, then flitted away. She was definitely not sane. And neither were the gangsters she’d been tracking through Old Town. They were the same gangsters she’d been fighting last week when Redbird had saved her ass.  
  
_Don’t go there, Brown._  
  
She lifted the binoculars and stared through the rain at the warehouse the five men she’d followed had ducked into a half an hour ago. She’d heard rumors of a shipment of unregistered guns and had traced them back here. All she needed was for this street gang to get their hands on more serious weaponry. The petty robberies and shake downs would escalate. Time to nip it in the bud. If only they’d show.   
  
Rainwater trickled down her face and pooled at the corner of her lips, tasting of copper and smog. She was tucked against the side of a building, in a join where two roofs met, with an overhang to keep the worst of the rain off of her. It didn’t help much. Her hair was a bedraggled mess and rain had found a gap in the collar of her costume. Every so often a trickle of icy water made its way down her spine. It did nothing to help her mood. It was times like this that she really missed the cape and cowl she’d worn as Batgirl. At least her head would have been dry.  
  
The front of the warehouse was a blank, graffitti-splashed facade, puddles widening in the cracked cement parking lot. She blew out a breath and dropped the binoculars, then checked her watch. When she looked up, she nearly cursed out loud. The metal loading dock door was slowly rising, letting a square of light spill into the small parking lot and across the street. The exhaust from a truck curled into the air as it idled.  
  
“Showtime,” she mumbled and tucked the mini binoculars back into one of the pouches at her waist. She uncurled her limbs and stood up in the rain. A twist of her head made her neck crack as a smile crossed her wet lips.   
  
The gangsters all had wary, but smug looks on their faces as they piled into the truck and started to pull out of the loading bay. They definitely were not expecting a black and purple clad blonde to land on the hood of the truck with a bang. And they definitely weren’t expecting her to extend her collapsible bo staff with a snap and shatter the windshield in one blow.  
  
The truck screeched to a halt and she was nearly thrown off of the slippery wet hood. Nearly. She gripped the edge of the hood and dug her feet into the bug-splattered grill as someone pulled a gun on her. After that, her world narrowed to the fight. Shots rang out as rain and wind lashed her face. She dodged a shot, but someone’s fist buried in her guts. A tooth flew free as her booted foot connected with a face. She broke someone’s wrist getting the gun away from him. One of the men got knocked out when her bo connected with his nose. Two of the gangsters ran as sirens pierced the darkness.   
  
That left two opponents, and she didn’t recognize either one of them as members of the street gang she’d been following. These men were professionals. One of them pulled a baseball bat and swung at her before she could move out of the way. The blow took her in the side of the face, knocking stars into her vision and blood into her mouth.   
  
A bloody smile crossed her lips as she slid to a stop against the side of the truck. The man came at her again, swinging the bat at her again. The other man already had a shotgun out. She flipped to the side, tucking and rolling out of the way. The shotgun blasted the night apart with a resounding bang.   
  
“I’m gonna fucking kill you!”  
  
“That’s not very nice,” Steph said, flipping to her feet. She shifted the staff into her left hand, as as she palmed two batarangs with her right. The taste of blood was in her mouth. She spat on the ground between them as the shootist pumped the shotgun.   
  
“Shoot the bitch already. The cops are comin’,” the one with the bat snarled. The shotgun was leveled at her middle. She lifted the batarangs and her eyes narrowed on the barrel of the shotgun and the baseball player’s face. Two jerks with one throw…

Her muscles tensed as she readied herself to go in for the figurative kill. She never got the opportunity. A black and red blur landed in the street between her and the two gun dealers.  
  
“Redbird! Dammit!”  
  
The shotgun went off with a blast, narrowly missing Redbird as he spun in on the shooter. He cupped his arm around the gun and leveled one of those devastating punches he was so good at square at the shooter’s face. Bone broke with a crunch and blood flew as the shooter fell to the ground with a grunt of pain. The one with the baseball bat moved in to defend his friend as Redbird tossed the shotgun across the street.

His masked face turned toward her and she saw the smug smile half-cocked on his lips. His wet black hair clung to his face in dark slashes.   
  
Stephanie crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Behind you.”  
  
“I know,” he said and executed a roundhouse kick with all the fluid grace of a ballet dancer. The sound of his booted foot connecting with the dealer’s head was curiously loud in the rain. The baseball bat clattered to the ground and rolled beneath the idling truck as the arms dealer landed with a final thud against the mud-coated tires.   
  
“I could handle them myself,” she said angrily, pulling black zip ties out of her utility belt. She swiftly cuffed the mens’ hands and feet together as the sirens grew ever closer. Damian nudged the shotgun wielding man in the ribs, but he was barely half-conscious, his face a mass of blood and bruising tissue.  
  
“He hit you,” he said tightly, and glanced up at her, catching her eye. The look on his face was intense, but she had no idea how to read it. She felt a blush slam into her and wanted to smack herself for the reaction. Instead she just scowled at him.  
  
“The police are coming,” she said tightly.  
  
“I know. I called them. You’re welcome.”  
  
“Whatever. I didn’t need your help. Go home, Redbird.”

Stephanie rolled her eyes and and turned on her heel, pulling her grappling gun from her belt and aiming at the rooftop she’d watched the warehouse from. The wind rushed past her. She didn’t stop to see if he followed. She just wanted her bed and some warm, dry clothes. And most of all she wanted to be away from him. She wasn’t ready to confront him, and his unnecessary rescue had pissed her off beyond recall.   
  
_I didn’t ask him to help me. I’m not helpless, the little shit…_  And of course there was the fact that he’d only had to  _look_  at her and she’d forgotten, even for a moment, that she was supposed to be avoiding him. Like a coward.  
  
The rain was tapering off, the storm moving into the distance. Her apartment was only a few blocks over and she took the rooftops at a run. Damian didn’t follow her.   
  
_Good._  
  
Wet, bedraggled and feeling utterly exhausted, she landed on the fire escape outside of her apartment and threw her living room window open. She just wanted some hot tea, a hot shower and some warm sheets. She let herself into her apartment, closed and locked the window behind her and walked through the darkness toward her bedroom, unzipping her costume as she went.  
  
“You’re very fast. I’m faster,” Damian said, the moment she opened her bedroom door. She nearly jumped out of her skin as she stared at him, silhouetted against her open bedroom window. He was perched on the windowsill, rain trickling down onto her carpet.  
  
“My floor’s getting wet,” she said through her teeth as she turned on her bedroom light. Damian squinted in the sudden brightness and then glanced down at the pool of water on her carpet. He unfolded his powerful legs and dropped into the room with a squelch of his wet boots. He shut the window with a bang as she glared at him.

He bit down on his lower lip for a moment, nibbling it just enough to make her throat close and her chest feel tight. He noticed her reaction and there was a little smile on his lips as he slowly walked toward her. She stood, frozen, unable to move, as he lifted a hand and slid it around the back of her wet neck.   
  
“Stephanie…” And there it was. Her name on his lips, barely a whisper, but so powerful in his mouth, sensual in that slightly British accent he’d never lost. Her eyes closed for one long moment as the sound of his deep voice wrapped around her as surely as the night-scent of him wreathed her senses like a drug. He bent over her, one hand on her waist, his nose just brushing hers.  
  
“You’ve been following me,” she managed as her hands lifted of their own accord, resting on his broad chest.  
  
“Protecting you.”  
  
“I don’t need protecting,” she breathed, and realized with a start that she was more than angry with him. She was furious, and her reaction to his intrusion into her bedroom wasn’t helping anything. “This is my job. I’m good at it. I don’t need you to save me from freaking thugs that I could have taken out when I was fifteen!”  
  
“That bastard hit you,” Damian said, the hand on the back of her neck tightening before he released her. His hand slid around and cupped her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his. His eyes were grim behind his mask.  
  
“It’s not the first time. I doubt it’ll be the last.”  
  
“You’re bleeding. And your face is going to bruise,” he said and his hand turned, the back of his gloved fingers brushing the tender skin of her cheekbone. Her head tilted to the side.  
  
“I’m fine,” she said forcefully. “That was my fight, Damian. I didn’t need backup and I certainly don’t need you to swoop in and save me. I’m not a damsel in distress, got it?” She poked him in the chest for emphasis.  
  
Damian pushed his wet hair back with a sigh. “I am well aware of that. I always have been. I worry about you though. If something were to happen to you…” He shifted uncomfortably in place. He looked like he had no idea how to put together the words he wanted to say. “Y-you could have been shot.”  
  
“So could you. That was close tonight. Don’t you ever get in front of a gun for me again, do you understand?” she said harshly, and felt a lump in her throat. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him get in front of a gun, but something about tonight had hit her hard. And from the look on Damian’s face, he hadn’t liked seeing a gun trained on her either.   
  
“Can’t promise that. And neither can you, I know,” he said, catching her gaze again. He sighed and lowered his face. “You ran from me, Stephanie. I’ve never known you run from anything in your life.”  
  
“I’m not running,” she snapped, flinching away from the steady weight of his hand. “Why would I run?”  
  
“Because we kissed. We would have done a lot more than that if Pennyworth hadn’t shown up,” he said.  
  
“Which would have been a huge mistake, okay? A mistake I’m not going to make again, you understand?” she said, and backed up a step, to get distance between them. She mostly just needed him to stop touching her. His touch felt too good, and too tempting. All she wanted was to bury her face in his neck and continue where they’d left off that morning in the Cave and not stop until the ache he’d caused was satisfied. If it ever would be.   
  
Damian’s arms dropped to his sides. “Dammit, I can’t help the way that I feel… And neither can you.”  
  
Stephanie reached up and peeled the mask off of her face. She dropped it on her dresser with a sigh, and then looked up at him through the curtain of her bedraggled hair.   
  
“I don’t feel–”  
  
“I scare you,” Damian said bluntly, curling his hand into a fist and tapping it against his thigh. His mouth pinched tight, as if he wanted to take the words back, but refused. “Don’t tell me that I don’t. I can see it in your eyes. When you ran out of the Cave the other morning I thought you might scream if I touched you again. You had the same look in your eyes just now.”  
  
She stared at him for a long moment and then dropped her gaze. She swallowed hard and then said carefully, “You’re right. You do scare me, Damian.”  
  
“Because I’m a killer.”   
  
Her head snapped up at that and she saw the expression on his face. “What?”  
  
“You know about my past, what I’ve done. Who I could be if I… I disgust you, don’t I?” The words came out of him precisely, every syllable controlled. She didn’t know if he was angry or sad or simply filled with acceptance. She stared at him for a long moment, maybe too long, because the pain in his gaze grew, threatening to choke him. She didn’t know what to say. Damian Wayne was many things, but he rarely made himself so vulnerable. He was laying himself in front of her, bare and raw. And she had no idea what to do. “I know that I…”  
  
She raised her hands to stop him. “Damian, you know that’s not how I feel! I’ve known who you are for years! You’re not a killer, not anymore, no matter what you say! And you don’t disgust me. I can’t believe you think that I think that! When have I ever made you feel that way? Where did this come from?”  
  
“Why else would you be terrified of me?”  
  
Stephanie put both hands over her face and then lowered them. “Because I’m absolutely terrified of the way you make me feel! It’s like I have no control when you touch me! This, us? It’s not what I was looking for or even wanted. You’re  _Damian!_  You’re that snotty little brat who didn’t know how to play like a normal kid! You’re the kid who called me Fatgirl to my face while he stared at my boobs! You’re that cocky and clueless, gangly sixteen-year-old who kissed me in the Cave one night and you’re that utter  _asshole_  who got stabbed in the back when he saved my life from Professor Pyg and then had nerve to tell me I should quit before I got myself killed! You’re Tim and Dick and Cass’s little brother! You’re Damian and you’re…you are a smug bastard, but you’re so good and you don’t even know it. And this… This isn’t going to work… I won’t let it.”  
  
Damian’s gaze lowered to the floor again. She could see white streaks in his chiseled cheeks as he clenched his jaw. Rainwater dripped down his forehead. It took him a long moment to speak.   
  
“So you only see me as some stupid kid?”  
  
“No! And that’s the problem, I think. You’ve become an attractive, impossibly sexy, self-confident man, and as much as I hate to admit it, I’m just a little  _too_  aware of that fact. I think I realized it when you kissed me in that damned limo two years ago.”  
  
“So you did feel it back then?” Damian whispered in a haunted voice.   
  
“I think you should go now,” she said in a small voice. She turned on her heel, the burn of his gaze sending heat prickling through her back as she walked out of her bedroom, through the kitchen and toward the front door. Damian followed, catching her waist and stopping her in the kitchen doorway. “Damian, don’t…”  
  
He half-turned her in place and she saw the intense look on his face again. Her stomach fluttered as he bit down on his lower lip again. “I’ve always wanted you, Stephanie. I was…not content, but certainly used to suffering in silence. I’d almost convinced myself that you’d never want me the same way that I wanted you. I even understood why. And then you kissed me at the docks. And in the Cave. You want me too, Brown. Don’t bother denying it.”  
  
Stephanie stared at her hands and the water pooling on her carpet at their feet. She blew out a breath and then looked him in the eyes. “Is that all you want from me, Damian? Just…sex?”  
  
“I won’t deny that making love to you is favorite fantasy of mine,” Damian said, lifting a hand and pushing a strand of her hair back over her shoulder. His fingers brushed her shoulder, but he pulled them back with a hard swallow. “But that is most certainly not all I want from you. You deserve so much more than that. I see how lonely you are. I’ve seen men come and go in your life and none of them have treated you the way you deserve. Especially–”  
  
She held up her hand again. “Let’s not bring him into this.”  
  
Damian looked like he wanted to argue, but stopped. “I’ve tried to get over you. I’ve dated so many women, but–”  
  
“So many women? Way to brag,” she said with a sarcastic twist of her lips.  
  
“I’m not bragging. I did it out of boredom and base need…but none of them were you. They don’t compare and I won’t settle for anything less than what I want.”  
  
Her eyebrow quirked up at that. “You sound like a spoiled little rich boy.”  
  
Damian smiled, which was somehow charming in its smugness. His hands spread on her waist, pulling her a step closer. She didn’t fight him, her hands clasping his biceps. Damian leaned over her again, his forehead pressed to hers. “But I  _am_  a spoiled little rich boy, Brown. And I  _do_  always get what I want. Tell me why this time is any different?”  
  
She laughed a little, but it was a weak sound. His mouth was close enough to kiss and she was fighting the urge to press herself against him, to kiss him until she lost herself completely. She knew how this was going to end. So did he. “This isn’t a good idea…”  
  
“Yes, it is.”  
  
She stood up on tiptoe, bringing their mouths together with a slow, sensual slide. Damian made an pleased noise in the back of his throat, like a rumbling panther. His head tilted to the side as he deepened the kiss, his tongue flicking against hers. Slowly. Too damned slowly. She couldn’t take it. She nipped his lower lip and pulled back after several heated minutes. Damian breathed out against her mouth, the corners of his lips curling. And then they were on each other again, tenderness lost.   
  
Her hands fisted up in the front of his costume as he walked her backward, a half-step at a time. His mouth devoured hers, the taste of the night, his taste, clinging to her senses like dark chocolate. His hands were everywhere, buried in her wet hair, pressing on the small of her back, encircling her like bands of steel.  
  
Her lips stung as he teased them, slanting his mouth over hers again and again. He was insatiable, hungry for her. Another moan escaped him, strangled and impatient with need. Her butt hit the edge of her kitchen counter, stopping them in their headlong flight through her apartment. She tore her mouth away from his, taking a deep, much-needed breath. Damian panted against her mouth, his lips open and wet. His tongue flashed, running along the inside of his lower lip as his eyes opened and fixed her in their sapphire stare.  
  
Shivers ran through her as her fingers unclenched and flattened on his chest. She should push him away. Had to. Her control of the situation had been completely lost the minute he’d touched her.   
  
But there was no stopping this.  
  
“Steph…” Damian forced out, his breath whispering against her lips, then he bent his head and gently bit down on her throat.  
  
The shock of his lips, the tug of his teeth, the scrape of his stubble and the immediate pucker of gooseflesh that rippled down her body from the point of contact made an involuntary gasp leave her. Her neck arched toward his mouth as he released her flesh and ran his tongue over her pulse point. His lips followed, kissing the column of her throat until all she could do was clutch him to her, her face buried in the crook of his neck and broad shoulder.  
  
Her mouth opened, tiny little gusts of air leaving her as every nerve in her body focused on her neck, and the complete and utter mockery he was making of her. He bit her again, a nip, followed by another and another until she was all but whimpering against him. Her hands tightened in the hair at the base of his neck, the other on his waist. He pushed her against the counter, one knee knifing between hers.  
  
“Damian,  _oh God_ … Gotta st-st…stop…” she managed as he turned his head and nipped her chin, then slid his tongue to her ear. He tugged her earlobe into the dark heat of his mouth and any protest she might have made was forgotten in an instant as hot shivers of pleasure exploded down her side.  
  
Her lips landed on his neck and she brushed them against the strong corded muscle, her body vibrating as Damian’s hot breath sent more goosebumps circling down her body, igniting her like a candle. She breathed in his scent, that night-scent, that danger and metal and blood scent that was all him.  
  
“You smell so fucking  _good_ ,” she mumbled as Damian dragged his mouth back to hers. She didn’t hesitate. She kissed him hard, possessively. He kissed her back just as hard, the hand in her hair cupping the back of her neck again. She liked it when he held her like that. Her mind screamed at her, good sense cowering in the corner. She’d known though. Known from the moment he’d shown up in the street what would happen, what she  _needed_  to happen.  
  
“I want you,” she breathed against his lips as they came up for air again. “Dammit, I want you.”  
  
The half-smile that curled Damian’s lips was smoldering and the flash of his eyes was a banked fire that promised an inferno. It told her everything she needed to know.  _Oh, I’m definitely in trouble._

Damian curled his hand into her wet hair again and smiled against her lips. Then he reached up and slowly peeled the domino from his face. He dropped it on her kitchen counter and turned back to her with naked eyes. His gaze caressed her from head to toe with a hot, sensual flick that left her shaking in place. There were promises in his eyes.   
  
He leaned in close to her ear, his hot breath whispering across her rain-dampened neck, and whispered, “I’m yours, Brown.”


	4. Chapter 4

“I’m yours, Brown.”

The words hung in the air between them for a long moment. Too long. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Damian’s lips grazed her ear, and then the column of her neck, his hot breath caressing her. Stephanie turned her head and caught his gaze again, a little smile playing on her lips. Damian leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled back into the cradle of his hand at the base of her neck. Damian leaned in again, but stopped inches from her lips, waiting for her to close the gap between them. She admired his restraint.

“Tease,” he breathed, mere inches apart.

“You have no idea,” she said with a flash of her eyes. “ _You_ are in trouble.”

“I like trouble,” he said, his hand releasing from her hair, and sliding down her arms to her waist. She wasn’t surprised when he grabbed the buckle on her utility belt and undid it with a rough tug that had their hips crashing together. He pulled it off and dropped it on the kitchen floor at their feet. His gaze lifted and met hers in challenge, daring her to take it further.

_Challenge freaking accepted, boy wonder._

Stephanie pushed away from the kitchen counter, slamming a rough kiss to his mouth. Damian stumbled back a few steps, but he didn’t seem surprised. He grabbed her around the waist, kissing her back with a hard press of bone and muscle and soft, hungry lips. Her feet got tangled in her utility belt as Damian turned them toward her bedroom. He pulled her flush against him to stop her from falling and then picked her up by the waist. Her legs and arms instantly went around him with a creak of leather and Kevlar. Stephanie moaned into the heat of his mouth, her hands buried in his hair, the taste of him flooding her senses.

Blindly, Damian moved them into her bedroom, kissing her as thoroughly as he had in the cave. Her heart was pounding out of control as adrenaline and the banked lust she’d been trying so desperately to ignore kicked in. She was really doing this. They were really doing this.

Damian’s knees hit the edge of her bed and he leaned forward, settling her on the mattress on her back. His body covered hers, all muscle, built for war and destruction and every dark sin she’d ever entertained. He deepened the kiss, his tongue breaching her greedy lips and slowly plunging against hers. His hand smoothed down her side and then up her ribs. He cupped her breast in his hand and she cursed all of the ridiculous layers of their costumes. She wanted to feel more of his skin. Wanted the heat and the salty taste of him, wanted sweat and teeth and pleasure. She wanted all of him.

Her hand worked between them as Damian kissed her, her thighs clasped on his hips. She found the buckle of his utility belt and undid it with an impatient tug. She let it fall off the side of the bed as Damian sat up on his knees. He was breathing hard, his slowly drying hair falling across his forehead. As she watched, he lifted his hand and bit down on the tip of his index finger, and then pulled the glove off with his teeth. When he went to do the other one, she couldn’t help the sound that came out of her.

Damian pulled another devastating half-smile and then pulled the gloves off of her hands in the same way. The moment her left glove was free of her hand and he’d dropped it over the side of the bed, she turned her fingers and pulled his hand toward her mouth. He hitched in a breath as she sucked his index finger into her mouth, her tongue swirling, tasting him, promising him with her eyes.

“Jesus…”

“Come here,” she said as she released his finger. Damian covered her body again, kissing her with an urgency both of them felt. She shifted beneath him, lifting her hips, bringing their bodies crashing together again. Damian slipped one hand underneath her shoulders and rolled them in place so that he could swing his legs over the edge of the bed. She straddled his lap as she got her hands behind his back and fumbled for the zipper on his costume. She finally found it and pulled it down his back. Damian tugged her lower lip between his teeth and released it as she grabbed the sides of his costume and pulled it down his broad shoulders, peeling the skin-tight suit off like she was peeling a peach.

Damian helped her pull his arms free, and then cupped her face in his hands. He kissed her with dark intention, nibbling on her lips as she pushed her hips forward against his. Damian made a soft grunting sound in his throat and she realized how uncomfortable things were probably getting for him. She peeled the costume down to his waist. Her hands smoothed down the front of his muscled chest, tracing old scars. Her fingers encountered a raised weal, knotted and newly healed. She gripped him hard, letting her nails dig in lightly, her breasts crushed against his chest. His teeth nipped her lower lip as she touched his hot flesh, brushing his nipples lightly and eliciting a guttural growl. He started kissing down her neck, sucking heavily on the skin in a way that was sure to leave a mark.

She writhed against him, her skin overheating inside of her damp costume, sweat popping out. He licked up her neck, tasting her with a barely contained growl, making her shudder against him.

He claimed her lips again, but only long enough for her to taste the salt from her sweat in his mouth and then he moved back down her neck to her collarbone. His hands were inside of her unzipped costume, against her breasts, cupping, squeezing, and bringing her nipples to aching life. His hot mouth moved down the center of her chest and then she felt the blistering stroke of his tongue against her flesh, trailing down her cleavage. His fingers caught on her zipper and he pulled it down to her crotch. She wasted no time in pulling her arms free as Damian found the zipper on her Kevlar bustier. He peeled the garment off of her and then moaned a little in his throat as he stared at her naked breasts.

Stephanie smiled at him, biting her lower lip. “You act like you’ve never seen them before.”

The look Damian gave her was shot through with amusement, and more than a little lust. “Oh, I have. You don’t close your blinds all the way, you know.”

“Creeper.”

“We both know you do it on purpose,” he mumbled as she tightened her arms around his neck. Instead of denying it, she kissed him, her mouth slowly working against his, plunging wetly into the dark heat. Damian let her go with a tug of her lip that sent little earthquakes through her skin. He dragged his lips down her neck, his teeth scraping her pulse point, nipping, marking her.

He devoured her breasts one by one, causing a series of pleasure-ridden shocks to go through her. She moaned, not his name, but something very like it, and writhed toward the heat of his mouth. She gripped his knee and rolled her hips against his, only to have him strangle out a noise that might have been her name. Without warning, he rolled them on the bed again and stood. She sat up on her elbows, watching as he kicked his boots and socks off, and then reached for hers. The look he shot her was blisteringly hot, though she could see that dimple in his cheek again.

Stephanie sat up on the edge of the bed as he tossed her left boot in the general vicinity of her closet. She reached out and grabbed him by the dangling front of his costume and tugged him forward a step. Her mouth landed on his lower belly, tongue tracing the hard definition of his muscled abs. Every inch of him was exquisite, just right for tasting, for touching, for biting.

_Dear God, I just want you naked right now…_

His stomach contracted as his hands sank in her hair, the air around them heavy, filled with the sound of the rain on her window. She tugged the rest of his costume down, taking his underwear with it. His cock bobbed free, flushed dark red, heavily veined and nestled in a patch of pitch black hair. She glanced up and saw the hooded expression on his face, and the way he was biting down on his lower lip again. Waiting.

“Stephanie… _Oh God…_ ” The words squeezed out of him with a strangled moan as she licked her palm and fingers and then reached out and encircled him at the root.

She enjoyed the way he moved forward, surging into her hand eagerly, warm and hard. He made another soft noise in his throat as she gripped him and slid her hand down his length and back again, feeling every hard ridge and soft contour. She licked her lips and met his gaze again, and then slowly slid him inside of her mouth. The flavor of him spread over her tongue as she shaped him slowly. She closed her eyes and swirled her tongue against the underside of his cock. Her hand squeezed tight, working him at the base. His hips twitched toward her in small movements, filling her mouth. She pulled off of him and stroked him from balls to tip. He had a dazed smile on his lips, his hand tangled up in her hair.

“What are you smiling about?” she said savagely, and flicked her tongue against him in soft, teasing strokes. He surged against her, her lips closing around his crown. She sucked hard, causing him tighten his hand in her hair.

He cupped her chin and bent to kiss her as she released the suction. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

“ _Mmmm_ …do tell,” she said and nipped at his lower lip. He straightened as her hand tightened around him and she stroked him steadily. She slid her lips down his length, tongue flatly pressing along him until she reached his balls. She flicked her tongue across the soft skin and then gently suckled one into her mouth. Damian shook in place and then let out a ragged breath as he watched her.

“Feels so fucking  _good_ … If you keep doing that, I, I’m afraid I might…” he stuttered out as his lower lip trembled a little.

“Kind of the idea.”

“Not yet,” Damian breathed, taking visible control of himself. He gently pushed her onto her back on the bed. Her hand slipped off of him as he let his hand trail down her the center of her body. He kicked his costume off the rest of the way and knelt on the floor in front of her. He looked like a panther, hungry and dangerous, stalking prey.

“What are you doing?”

“Something I’ve been dying to do for years,” he said, and grasped her costume. He pulled it down her hips and she sat up a little to help him. She was still wearing her panties and as she lay back on the bed, Damian’s hot blue gaze trailed up her legs to the apex of her thighs. His eyebrow arched at her a little as he pushed her thighs open and fit himself between her knees. His hands trailed up the outside of her thighs and landed on her hips, his thumbs dipping into the sides of her purple panties. “Purple. Always  _purple_ with you.”

“You don’t like it?”

“On the contrary…” he said and lowered his mouth to her navel. He rained soft, reverent kisses across the hard-won muscle of her stomach. “I get hard whenever I see purple. It’s a nightmare, really. I blame you.”

“Poor baby,” she said as she hooked her legs over his broad shoulders and sat up on her elbows, watching him slowly nipping at her stomach as he worked his way downward between her thighs. His hot mouth was wet against the crotch of her panties as he buried his face in her center, breathing her in and then gathering the satiny material between his teeth. He tugged the purple fabric forward, glancing up at her as he did. Her hand slid into his hair as she shook a little on the edge of the bed.

He released the material and nuzzled her again, his nose pressing against her clit through the fabric. A moan lived and died in her throat as she bit down on the inside of her lower lip, watching him with slitted eyes.

“Just want to taste you,” he mumbled against her, pushing her panties aside, one questing finger sliding through the wet slit with reverent slowness. Steph’s hips twitched upward as pleasurable sensations crept outward in hot waves, following his progress like static electricity.

“You don’t have to,” she said, fighting a blush, remembering things best left out of her mind at the moment.

“But I want to.  _Fuck_ …I  _need_ to,” he said, catching her gaze again, rocking her with the lust nestled in the dark corners of his wet lips. His finger traveled upward, the callused pad flatly pressing against her clit, rubbing in slow, agonizing circles. “I want to make you come.”

Steph let out a breath, her heel digging into his shoulder blade as she unconsciously tried to press him against her. “Um…just a fair bit of warning, I’ve never had a guy make me come by going down on me. It’s no big deal. So don’t let it wound your pride when I don’t, boy wonder.”

“Really?  _Never?_ ” His finger stopped its grinding circle. A slow smile caught on his mouth as he scraped his stubbled cheek against the inside of her thigh. “Well then, what’s that phrase you love to throw around?  _Challenge fucking accepted_.”

She bit back a smile. “You don’t lack for confidence, do you?”

“You’ve seen me naked, I don’t lack for anything,” Damian shot at her. She laughed and fell back on the bed as Damian grasped her panties and pulled them off of her. She drew her legs in to help him, and watched as he caught her ankle in his hand and then kissed the curved scar on the inside of her calf. He kissed his way back up her thigh, snugly tucking his shoulder beneath her leg. She turned her other leg outward and hooked it around his waist as he bent over her. Her hand reached down and she spread her soft flesh open for him. Damian stopped, his breath hot against her. “Beautiful.”

His tongue flicked out, probing her experimentally. Her hand withdrew as he slowly rubbed his tongue upward and down, making her bite her lip as she watched him. He glanced up at her, flashed another of those rare smiles, and then kissed her wet mound, in an almost sweet gesture.

His mouth closed over her clit in the next instant, sucking so hard she gasped and squirmed at the sudden pressure. He released her after several blistering seconds, and she relaxed with a ragged, throaty breath. He didn’t give her quarter though, his tongue flicking against her with the same single-minded intensity that he applied to crime-fighting. Electric zings exploded in her center, spreading outward like a blast radius. Her hand found his hair again and tightened, pulling him closer as the back of her head dug into the mattress. His tongue pressed into her with a slow grind, the rough texture rasping.

“ _Ohhh_ …okay… Maybe you’re not so, so bad at–” Stephanie said, taking in shallow, noisy breaths as her stomach contracted with each blistering strafe of his tongue. “Wow, that’s…umm… _Oh my Guh–!_ ”

She sat up on her elbow again, watching him work her with his mouth, his jaw the only part of him she could see moving. He glanced up and their gazes met, and then he closed his eyes again. He pulled back a little and his tongue pulled a wide circle around her hard nub. He trailed down and then, with a hot probe, his tongue slid inside of her. Stephanie made an involuntary mewling noise and pushed her hips upward. His tongue plunged in and out in a steady rhythm and then he pulled back, bit his lip and then, like a snake striking, sucked at her clit again.

Her arm collapsed and she crashed back to the mattress. Her knees pulled together around his head and he gently pushed them apart again, releasing her with another hard suck that had her eyes rolling back in her head. The narrow tip of his tongue teased her until her leg started to shake. Her back bowed, pleasure spinning through her. When he eased two of his fingers inside of her, it was all she could do to keep from ripping out the handful she had of his hair.

He didn’t seem to mind that she was pulling on his hair. In fact, judging by the noises he was making–deep, muffled purrs of pleasure with every sweep of his tongue–he was enjoying her reactions. She was beyond surprised. She’d never had anyone undo her so quickly and efficiently before. She couldn’t even think of anyone who had come close. She, in fact, couldn’t think about anything but the pleasure exploding over her, pulsing in waves from her center. His fingers curled, pressing, rubbing deeply inside of her. Her face screwed up as her breathing increased, panting until she was practically hyperventilating. Her hips pushed backward and forward, meeting his fingers as they thrust inside of her. Wetness coated the inside of her thighs.

Damian’s fingers worked into her, faster, promising her more. He lifted his head and watched the pleasure play across her features. Another smug smirk took hold of his mouth, and then he bent and gently pulled her clit between his teeth.

“ _Holy shit!_ ” Her heel dug into the side of mattress, finding purchase on the lip of the box springs as her lower body lifted off of the mattress completely. Her hand left his hair and grasped the comforter on her bed, twisting it into desperate, bunched handfuls. Her whole body shook, going haywire as he released her and then, in one a world-shattering move, rolled her clit between his lips and then sucked on it again, harder than before, his tongue flicking rapidly against it. It was her undoing. Her back bowed again, head digging into the mattress. “Ohhh FFFFF _uuuuuuu_ UCK! Dami…oh shhh- _shit…!_ ”

Orgasm crested over her like a tsunami, destroying her completely and leaving her devastated in its wake. Her legs clamped around him as she clutched at the comforter, pulling it down the bed. She released her knees and propelled herself away from the hot stroke of his tongue, still moving against her. She couldn’t take it. The pleasure was too intense, all consuming. She moved back a foot on the bed, breathing hard, slowly coming down. Damian’s fingers were still moving inside of her, massaging in and out in an indulgent way. She could feel his mouth on her stomach.

The mattress depressed as Damian put a knee on it, his body fitting in between her quivering thighs. His mouth moved up her ribs, lingered on her breasts and then pressed wetly against her lips in tightly controlled kiss that threatening to become wild. When he pulled back, his fingers slipped out of her and he braced himself above her on the bed. Her eyes opened and she stared at him, her breathing still this side of out of control. She felt flushed all over, sated, and yet still so damned hungry.

When their gazes met, it was with a hot thrust that sent needles of excitement down to her toes. Damian, braced above her, his face as flushed as hers, hair sticking out in wild directions from her hands, slowly smiled at her. His laugh followed, and the sound, so pleased, so genuine and so very rare, made a warm bloom of happiness rise in her. Despite herself, her smile followed and she collapsed into an embarrassed laugh that had her lifting her hands and covering her burning face.

“Oh, you utter  _bastard_ ,” she said from behind her hands as Damian chuckled at her. She uncovered her face after a moment and fake-scowled at him. “What gives you the right to be that freaking good at that?”

“I’m a Wayne and an al Ghul. Perfection was bred into me and then honed like a razor,” Damian said, his nose brushing hers as his wet lips hovered over hers. He landed tiny, questing kisses against her lips and she returned them, her hands lifting to cup his face. “I love the sound you make when you come, Stephanie.”

Her whole body flamed and she lifted her head off of the mattress, deepening the kiss with a hunger that was growing inside of her. She wanted more. Wanted to feel him, wanted to touch every part of him, to lay claim to every scar, every muscle, every hot inch. Damian moved back with her, his hands catching her under her arms. He moved her backward on the bed with one swift gesture and she landed with her head on the pillows. Damian followed, his body covering hers, knees knifing between her thighs. He settled against her, his stiff cock nudging her wet thighs, sliding against her.

Her arms went around him, pulling him down on her with an impatient need. His tongue, the sweet heady taste of her body lingering between them, swept against hers even as his cock slid through her wetness, grazing her clit with a hot, electrifying crackle. Her hand worked between them and she grasped him again, feeling his racing pulse as her fingers encircled him. Damian huffed a moan against her lips and then turned his head to the side.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he cursed, shaking in place. His head turned and he stared down at her. She wondered how she looked to him. She felt wild, totally and utterly disheveled. Her hair was tangled on the pillows, still damp and beyond her ability to tame. “Do you have condoms?”

The words took a moment or two to sink into her lusty brain. Finally the meaning seemed to register and she nodded.

“Yeah,” she said, and rolled to the side, reaching for her nightstand. Damian shifted out of her way and she pulled the drawer open and rooted around for the box she’d stashed inside months ago. Training with Batman had led her to be prepared for any situation. Even one as unlikely as this. She found the box and retrieved one of the foil packets, ripped it open and rolled back over to face him. He took it from her and put it on with practiced ease, though she noticed that his hand was shaking a little. Her hand followed his as he finished rolling it on and she saw the reaction her touch had on him. His eyes slammed shut and he took a breath, his nostrils flaring.

When he opened his eyes, she managed a ghostly smile at him. He returned it and she felt her heart lurch, hard and fast beneath her rib cage. “Are you ready?”

Stephanie tightened her thighs on his hips, grasped his ribs and rolled him to the side. He landed on his back as she straddled him, his cock nudging her opening again. She leaned forward, her hands on either side of his head on the pillow. She landed a kiss on his mouth that lingered for a moment. “Mmmm, that’s better.”

“I see how it is. You like to be on top,” he said as his hands landed on her hips and slid up to her waist.

“Damn right,” she said as his thumbs caressed her, pulling her forward a little as his hips shifted upward by fractions. She reached between them and positioned him at her opening. He stared at her with an awed expression on his dusky face as she slowly enveloped the crown of his cock. “What?”

“You look gorgeous, Brown,” he moaned, his back bowing as she slid down his length and came to rest against his thighs. Her fingers clenched his muscled chest as she bit down on her lip. She breathed out and shook around him. The feel of him inside of her was too much, too real, too damned good.

_Sweet baby Jesus, I’m not gonna walk right after this._

Damian grinned at her and shifted upward and down, meeting the slow roll of her hips. “You realize you said that out loud, right?”

“Shut up and fuck me, Wayne,” she said and lowered herself to his chest, kissing the smug expression off of his sensual lips. Her hips rolled against his as he thrust inside of her in slow, controlled strokes. She loved it, loved the relief of it all. 

Finally, _finally…_

She sat up and circled her hips over top of him, riding him faster. Damian’s hands were on her ribs, and they slid up to cup her breasts, his thumbs grazing her nipples. She surged onto him, her hips rocking to a rhythm that soothed her, and inflamed her all at once. Her tangled hair twisted down her back and fell forward over one shoulder, half-obscuring her face as she poked her tongue out from between her teeth.

She caught his hands and laced their fingers together, bracing herself as she slowly ground herself down on him. Damian was moving with her, his mouth open, eyes slitted as he watched her. With an impatient sound, he slammed home, high and tight and her head went back, pleasure scattering across her senses. Damian sat up and pulled her against his chest, his arms encircling her. She put her arms around him, fingers digging into his lower back as she buried her face against his neck.

“ _Oh Guh_! Damian, this feels…” she breathed out against his neck as their bodies kissed in slow torment. Everything was liquid and warm friction. The scent of the night, that so-very-Damian scent, clung to her, enveloped her in a soporific blanket, becoming a part of her as she spun into him with each forward rock of her hips. Damian’s mouth was scraping along her shoulders, his hands in her hair, on her back, then on her breasts, her waist. He couldn’t stop touching her. Each caress was like a hot brand. Sweat formed on both of their bodies, slicking each desperate quake of her hips.

Damian’s mouth trailed to her breasts and she leaned back to give him better access. He suckled on her, pulling at her breasts with a hard suck that sent little aftershocks down her skin and exploding like an atom bomb in her hypersensitive clit. She writhed on his lap, faster and harder, taking him roughly. Damian moaned and moved with her, panting against her bouncing breasts until a shattered moan escaped him.

He grasped her and shifted up to his knees, driving her onto her back beneath him. Her fingers clutched him, nails digging in as she crossed her ankles behind his back. He stilled over top of her and breathed heavily into her neck for several long moments. Her mouth trailed up the strong column of his neck and she whispered in his ear. “Dami? You okay?”

“Just…needed a moment…” he said and shook a little as she caused goosebumps to erupt down his sweaty spine. “I nearly…”

“Mmmm… isn’t that the point?” Her tongue flicked his ear as his hips shifted against hers and then rocked in slow, deep strokes, bodies locked together.

“Don’t want to. Not yet. You nearly made me lose control,” he mumbled in an accusing way and lifted himself up.

“Only nearly? Let’s see what we can do about that,” she said and shifted her hips off of the bed, claiming all of him.

He hitched in a breath through his teeth as his hips snapped forward sharply, driving her back down into the bed hard. “ _Fuck._ ”

The kiss he claimed from her was searing, deep and all-consuming. Her limbs twisted around his as he pounded into her body, his pace steady and fast, bringing pleasure and a hovering sense of completion. She wanted to come again, wanted it, needed it, had to have it, have him. His body was hard, commanding, all male dominance and sleek precision. He knew what he was doing, knew every move that would make her gasp against his mouth, that would make her nails dig into his flesh and rake furrows in the backs of his shoulders. She couldn’t stop kissing him, or the words that burst out of her in strangled exclamations, encouragements and breathless moans.

His pace changed, became a wild thing as he thrust into her sharply, opening her to him even further. She couldn’t do anything but cling to him, lost in the pleasure, the pounding of her heart keeping in time to the pounding of hips against hers. He was slowly fucking her into the mattress and she became dimly aware that he’d moved her again, shoving her head nearly off of the foot of the bed. She didn’t care. Her nails dug into him as another wave built inside of her, too powerful to ignore, intoxicating in its strength.

Damian’s breathing was ragged as his strokes began to shorten and his muscles quivered. He kissed her again, hard and rough, the force bruising and ungentle. She didn’t want or need gentle though. She needed him, just him. Always him.

Her head went back as the wave swelled within her, sucking her out to sea with it and then slamming her back to shore. She was vaguely aware of shouting his name, maybe even screaming it, but she couldn’t seem to grasp the details through the pleasure bursting over her. Her body tightened around his. Orgasm spread through her like a flood, breaking through every part of her body, smashing her to bits against the rock-hard contours of his body.

“Steph…” Damian groaned against her neck as her clenching body spasmed around his, tightening like a fist. He followed her into orgasm with a deeply flattering groan and a high, sharp thrust that quaked through them both. He shuddered around her, grasping her hands and pinning them to the bed above her head as he came. Stephanie gasped, grinding upward against him as they slowly came down. Sweat dripped off of the end of his nose and hit her lips. Her tongue darted out, tasting the salt, sated beyond words.

Damian’s hips rocked against hers as their shared orgasm ebbed and abated. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Every inch of her body tingled, from her toes to her eyes. She was pretty sure her neighbors had heard her screaming his name. She flushed a little as Damian’s eyes opened and fixed her in their blue beams.

She let out a breath and bit down on her lower lip again. She asked a bit dumbly, her tongue feeling swollen and dry, “Did we just have sex?”

“Yes?”

“Okay. Just checking. I think you might have broken my brain.” Damian laughed again and sank down to his elbows over top of her. He kissed her slowly, taking his time as their bodies recovered. She kissed him back, still hungry for him, utterly content, despite the reality of what had just happened.

She’d had sex with Damian Wayne.

 _Damian_. Gorgeous, smug, bratty, sexy, dangerous, mysterious, delicious, inscrutable, annoying, fucking sexy as shit  _Damian_.

_It wasn’t just sex. It was gourmet sex. The kind of sex that you never get over. And oh my GOD, was it amazing._

A million thoughts ran through her mind, such as, OH SHIT WHAT NOW? but she pushed them away. That could wait until morning, when dawn would make everything a bit realer and the night was a distant stain. She wasn’t regretting it yet though. The wetness on her thighs was utterly preventing regret at the moment, and she was content with that. That might change in the morning though, and she dimly knew it. Finally, Damian slipped out of her and sat back. They were both breathing heavily, skin flushed.

Damian cast her a look that had her toes curling, and then he got out of the bed and padded, gloriously naked, out of her bedroom. The bathroom light came on and was then cut off as the door closed. She sat up in the bed and ran a hand through her hair, but it was hopelessly tangled and she didn’t have the energy to brush it out. 

Her arms and legs felt heavy. Her stomach muscles ached and her inner thighs quivered and clenched. Everything below her waist ached sweetly. She was starting to get bruises from the fight with the gang earlier, but she was used to the pain. It was everything else she wasn’t used to; Damian had fucked her and fucked her well and by the look in his eyes he knew it.

 _I’ll never hear the end of it,_ she thought with a sleepy contentment.

She twitched aside the blankets, noted the wet spot with a small thrill and climbed, naked, beneath the sheets. She was feeling oddly body-shy now as she waited for Damian to come back into her bedroom. When he finally appeared, her eyelids were getting heavy and she wanted nothing more than to curl up against him and drift into a well-earned sleep. He stopped in the doorway and looked at her. He’d removed the condom and cleaned himself up, but he was as naked as ever, and not shy about it.

Just looking at him woke her up, and she smiled at him from the bed as he crossed the room and climbed in beside her. She curled up against him, laying her head on his shoulder. Damian relaxed against the pillow and breathed out as he caressed the back of her shoulders. 

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of the rain still tickling the windowpane. She had no idea what to say, what to think, what to feel. She was surprised he hadn’t left though, surprised that he wanted to spend the night with her. For some reason, she’d thought for sure he would have left the first chance he got; Damian had never seemed the morning after, let’s have breakfast type. That he’d stayed, and hadn’t had to ask if she wanted him to, made her feel warm and happy. She didn’t think she could have handled it if he’d left.

She vaguely wondered what that meant, and quickly turned her thoughts away from that path. That way led complication and emotions and truths she wasn’t capable of tackling at the moment. For now she was content with leaving what had happening where it was tonight, in the darkness, where she could hide.

 _Here’s to the night,_ she thought.

“That was…” she finally said, trailing off.  _Amazing? Incredible? I think I’m now addicted to your penis?_

“Everything I ever wanted,” Damian whispered. She tilted her head to see catch the soft smile on his mouth. She’d never seen him smile so much before tonight. It was odd, but she liked it. “You were worth the wait.”

Her eyebrow lifted and she glowed at the flattery. “Is it creepy if I say, ‘you too’?”

He huffed a laugh and ran his fingers through her hair, unsnarling a knot with practiced patience. “I don’t know. May I ask you a question?”

“I think you’ve more than earned the privilege,” she said as she closed her eyes and laid her head on his chest, her fingers rubbing his stomach as she felt him unsnarling her hair. The feeling was utterly comforting, reminding her of her mother brushing her hair as a child.

“All those years ago, when I first kissed you in the Cave…were you really surprised?”

“Truthfully?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

His voice was warm and deep against her ear. “You liked it.”

“I didn’t say that,” she mumbled lightly as her heavy eyelids closed of their own accord. Her fingers stilled on his lower belly, the tension running out of her body.

“Stephanie?”

His voice sounded very far away. She didn’t reply, relaxed and warm and floating now. She could hear his heartbeat beneath her ear and it was taking her away, spinning her out into the night. From a million miles away, she felt his lips on her forehead, or thought she did. Darkness slipped over her and like a whisper in the black, she heard a soft, shattering echo that reverberated through the dark streets of Gotham.

“I love you, Brown.”

_(end)_


	5. Weekend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a one-off smutfic set a couple of months after the events of Here's To the Night.

Stephanie was vaguely aware of warmth at her back, and something insistently firm pressing into her lower back. A half-awake smile curled her lips as she felt the muscular arm wrapped around her middle tighten, bringing her even closer into the tantalizing harbor of masculine heat. She inhaled that familiar scent of night, danger, blood, bruises and Damian. He breathed steadily against the back of her neck, his face pressed into her hair, mouth just brushing her skin. A flood of happiness made her bite down on her lower lip, the smile pinging through her body, all the way down to her bare toes.

She shifted against Damian, realizing that her head was pillowed on his other arm, which was outstretched and buried beneath the pillow she had abandoned in favor of him. She pushed her hips backward a little, feeling the dig of his half-mast erection against her lower back. Her eyes opened and she stared into the gloom of her bedroom. The black out curtains on her window made it impossible to discern the time of day or night, but one glance at the alarm clock’s glowing green numbers told her that dawn had come and gone.

She gloried in the afterglow of eight hours sleep; she lived for the weekends, when her late night activities didn’t intrude on her day job at the counseling center. She could lie in bed all day if she wanted. With him.

Her hand found his on her stomach and she lightly stroked his scarred skin, breathing him in, goosebumps shivering down her sides from his breath on her neck. She wondered when he’d gotten in last night. She hadn’t heard him, or at least not that she could remember. She’d been burning the candle a little harder than usual all week and she’d passed out pretty much the moment she’d come home the night before. She hadn’t even managed pajamas, and now the underwire of her sleep-twisted bra was digging creases into her ribcage and she had the mother of all night wedgies.

Trying not to wake him, she leaned forward a little, pushing her hand between their bodies beneath the covers to dig her panties out of her crack. As she did, her hand brushed the not-so-small tent in the front of his boxer briefs, eliciting a sleepy moan from him. She dragged her panties out of her crack with a pinch of her fingers and as she pulled back, she turned her hand, letting her fingers caress his bulge. The arm around her waist tightened and he pressed forward with a huff against her neck. He pushed himself against her butt, trapping her hand between them.

Her fingers slowly massaged him through his underwear, though she couldn’t do much from that angle, with his arm over hers and his body trapping her hand tight between them. It didn’t seem to matter though. Damian moaned in her ear and she felt him take a ragged breath against her back.

“You awake?” she whispered, knowing full well that he was. He’d been awake from the moment her fingers had brushed him.

“ _Hmmm_ ,” he breathed into her hair.

“Didn’t hear you come in last night.”

“Came in ‘bout three. Didn’t wanna wake you,” he mumbled, the hand on her stomach pressing flat. His thumb caressed slowly across her lower belly, spreading ticklish little shivers through her. His hips moved against her palm, rubbing himself against in tiny, slow movements. He moved his head and kissing her shoulder with a scratch of stubble. Her eyes closed, more shivers running through her. No matter how many times he touched her, she couldn’t get used to the sensations he caused in her; every nerve and cell ached for him.

“Any plans for today?”

“Just this,” he said, and his mouth trailed up to her ear as he pressed his face against her neck. “Just you.”

Another shiver ran just below the surface of her skin and she curled her legs up, toes against his thighs. She half-turned in the bed and caught his blue eyes. “ _Good_.”

A little smile, all sex, full of intent, so very  _Damian_ , curled his lips. He kissed her temple and then nosed her neck, landing little ghostly kisses down to her shoulders. She pushed her hips forward just enough to flatly slide her hand down his muscled stomach and inside of the elastic waist of his underwear. She found him warm and stiff, his pulse throbbing hotly through him as his cock leaped at her touch. Damian hitched in a breath between his teeth and let out the barest of groans against her ear.

She stroked him as he bent the arm she was resting her head on, pulling her head back toward him. She tilted her head and he found her mouth with a shallow, warm kiss. The angle was off though, and his mouth dragged awkwardly against hers. She didn’t mind and neither did he. The hand on her stomach slowly tickled its way upward, spreading over her ribcage to the upheaval of her breasts. One-handed, he pushed the right cup of her favorite purple bra upward, allowing him to get his hand inside to squeeze her breast.

Moaning against his mouth, she rolled back against him so that her shoulder rested against his broad chest. He lifted himself up on his elbow and slanted his mouth against hers in a deep, drugging kiss. He tasted of sleep and coffee, the flavor spreading over her tongue as he opened her mouth to his. His tongue flicked against hers lazily as his hand slowly kneaded her breast. His hips pulsed into her stroking fingers. She grasped him firmly, working him in tiny tugging motions until he let go of her mouth with an urgent exhale of breath. His body shuddered against hers and he twitched in her hand again.

“ _Jesus Christ_ , Brown,” he said through his teeth as his eyes slammed close. Warmth flowed from her center outward.

“Like that, do you?” she teased as her thumb rubbed across the head of his cock, smearing through the wetness that had beaded there. He answered her by lightly biting down on the round of her shoulder, then sucking the reddened flesh into his mouth. He nibbled at her as his hand left her twisted bra and slid down beneath the blankets again. He found the front of her panties and slipped his hand inside. Her hips tilted forward immediately to give him better access. A sigh escaped both of them as his fingers parted her flesh, skimmed her clit and then dipped inside of her with a questing motion that was almost a tease.

Her hand stilled as he throbbed in her fist, but he didn’t seem to mind. He curled two fingers inside of her, slowly gliding through her slick heat. His fingertips massaged her inner walls, drawing out a moan and moisture as her hips slowly rolled in time to the slow thrust of his hand. Her head fell back on the pillow of his hard arm and she closed her eyes, biting down on her wet lip.

“Like that, do you?” he said and then kissed her hard. He pulled his fingers out of her, dragging them up to her clit to spread the slick moisture across her sensitive flesh, and then slid them back inside. The heel of his palm pressed into her clit, flattening as he ground his hand into her. She pulled her hand out of his underwear and grasped his wrist as she half-rolled against his chest to give him better access. She dug the heel of her right foot into the mattress and bent her leg beneath the blankets as she slowly rode his talented fingers.

Then he pulled his fingers out of her again and pressed his fingertips to her clit, slowly circling it, flicking it until she out a shuddering moan against his mouth. Pleasure scattered across her skin as her nails dug into Damian’s wrist. He flicked her clit again and her leg shook, then collapsed back to the bed, knees pressing together, trapping his hand with her thighs. His mouth found her ear again and he huffed a little laugh that sent goosebumps cresting down her skin. She felt the urgent press of his cock against her lower back again and indolent hunger filled her.

“I want to fuck you just like this,” he said roughly against her ear as his fingertips pressed her clit flat again, grinding it in agonizing circles. Stephanie met his eyes again and nodded.

Silent understanding born from years of fighting side by side and months (the best months of her life) as lovers passed between them. Damian pulled his hand out from between her shaking legs as she rolled to the side and onto her stomach. She reached out and grasped the bureau drawer handle and pulled the drawer open. Her hand rooted around inside of the mess blindly in the darkened room until she found a packaged condom by feel in the various objects, paperbacks and remotes she kept there. At the same time, Damian pushed the covers down and she felt him moving on the bed, removing his underwear. They sailed across the room, smacked the wall and landed on top of his Redbird costume, which he’d discarded the night before.

Before she could roll back over, Damian’s arms caught her around the middle and dragged her back into the harbor of his arms. He pushed his face against the crook of her neck again and made a low noise in his throat that was almost a purr. She felt his cock press against her ass and her hand tightened on the condom. One of his hands reached between them, impatiently jerking her panties down to her thighs. She shifted against him, drawing her right leg up, opening herself to him as he pressed against her back. With a shift of his hips, his cock dragged down between her cheeks and then slid through the wet heat of her aching cleft.

Her eyes rolled back in her head as he rubbed along the length of her slit, the blunt head of his cock grazing her clit. He pushed against her roughly, thrusting between the tight press of her soft inner thighs, rubbing against her, smearing himself with the moisture of her body, but not penetrating her. Her fingers dug into the mattress as his hand tightened on her hip, his hips bumping against hers with every thrust. He grazed her clitoris again and she cursed loudly.

She loved the sensation, loved the way she could feel every ridge and vein of him as he rubbed against her. When he moved to push the head of his cock inside of her, she lifted her hand, smacking his shoulder and then waving the condom in his face.   
  
“Condom, dumbass!” she said breathlessly, glancing over her shoulder at him.  
  
He let out a groan as his hips stilled. He throbbed against her for a moment, and then pulled back, plucked the condom from her hand and rolled onto his back. She took the opportunity to peel her panties all of the way off, shoving them into the bunched up blankets on the edge of the bed. Her annoying, twisted, half-on bra followed and as she started to roll over, Damian’s arms caught her again, pulling her back against him. He tugged her earlobe between his lips, rolling it with a nibble.   
  
She reached back between them, grasped his sheathed cock and guided him back between her legs as she drew her left leg up again. Damian’s hand replaced hers and he slowly pushed inside. She enveloped him inch by inch as Damian grasped her waist, his hips pushing forward as her slick heat greedily welcomed him. He stopped as his lower belly pressed against her ass, breathing into her neck again. He reached up, pushing her blonde hair to the side as his other arm tightened around her, cupping the underside of one breast. Her hand covered his, the other gripping tightly to the sheets.   
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” he mumbled against her ear and she felt a tremor move through him. It infected her, rippling beneath her skin as her body adjusted to his. She pressed her hips back and forward, wetness pooling, slicking his passage. He groaned at her movements and slowly rocked with her, though he let her take control for the moment. Damian was all alpha; he loved taking charge in bed, and she usually let him; he had the unique ability to send her into a mindless mass of desire that precluded fighting for dominance. It made occasionally flipping the tables on him that much more fun; and he not-so-secretly enjoyed it when she surprised him. She was feeling too lazy, too covered in a web of aching desire to do much more than press her back against the muscular front of his body, slowly grinding on him.  
  
Despite his earlier rush, he now seemed in no hurry and he moved with her, their bodies locked together, front to back. His hand gripped her hip tightly as she rolled her hips backward against his, pleasure scattering through her lower body with an insistent ache. He rained kisses on her shoulder, her neck, her temple, and when she turned her head, he slanted a hungry kiss across her lips that seared, that promised, that made her hips roll sharply back against his. His hand on her hip tightened and then released as he pulled back until only the tip of his cock was inside of her. Then he slowly glided back inside, surprising her. He did it again and again, taking her slowly, in languid thrusts that knocked the breath out of her throat.   
  
His kiss deepened, their tongues battling. The angle was hurting her neck and when she broke the kiss and turned her head to the ease the strain, he merely dragged his mouth back to her shoulder.   
  
Her lower body trembled around him, the friction like a slow burn. His hand trailed back to her ass and he spread her cheeks a little, gliding home with a little more force. She moaned and he huffed out a laugh against her ear. “More of that?”  
  
“ _Ah huh_ ,” was all she could manage around a dry tongue. She licked her lips, eyes closing as she gave herself up to him, forgetting herself, the world, the fight, everything but him. It was him. Always him.   
  
“Harder?”  
  
She nodded and then gasped as Damian’s wide hand grasped her hip, bringing her back against him tightly. His hips slammed into hers rapidly, fucking her high and tight until she writhed against him. Her right leg turned again, and she slung it back over his thigh, opening herself to him even more. He didn’t cease his rhythm, didn’t slow an inch, the friction like a hot wire, making her writhe, mindlessly grinding into him as he took her to the brink so quickly she didn’t even know she was coming until she cried out his name.   
  
“Oh fuck!” she said and clamped down on her lower lip so hard she drew blood. Damian rode out her orgasm, groaning as her body shuddered around his, clamping tight and convulsing. His hand shifted to her lower belly, stilling both of them on the bed, letting her come down from her sudden high. When the trembling in her mid-section subsided, he began his slow rhythm again, filling her as deeply as he could go. She let out a breath she hadn’t been aware that she was holding and turned to kiss him again.  
  
He licked the blood from her lip, his tongue flicking against the wound, pressing for more as the bitter flavor of blood passed between them. His hand slipped down her stomach and skimmed her clitoris again, making her whimper against his mouth, her hand reaching back and gripping his waist. The hand on her breast kneaded her in slow, cat-like motions. She tugged at his lips with her teeth and then suckled his tongue inside. He kissed her deep and slow, their bodies slowly working against one another.   
  
Pleasure pooled between her legs as his fingers worked her. Everything was wet and warm. He moved within her with each slow roll of his hips, her sensitive flesh grasping around him, begging for more. She twitched her hips back on him again and he groaned, thrusting hard to meet her. He broke the kiss and stared at her with a dark gleam of mischief and lust in his eyes. She knew that look. It meant trouble.   
  
She _loved_  his kind of trouble.  
  
He surprised her completely then, the arm clamped around her middle tightening as he rolled them both to the side, still locked together. She draped across his chest as he settled her into place. His knees lifted, pushing between her thighs and spreading her legs open as she stared up at the ceiling, toes digging into the mattress on either side. He spread his hand on her lower belly and his thumb grazed her clit, making her head push back against his shoulder, throat arched. He breathed in her ear as their bodies adjusted to the new and unexpected position. Her weight settled across him as he lay on his back.  
  
“You like this?” he mumbled in her ear as his hips lifted off of the bed, filling her and then withdrawing in that same slow, steady pace he’d taken before. She turned her head and stared into his blue eyes, drowning in them for a moment. She nodded again and kissed his jaw, the only part of his face she could properly reach from that position. His hand worked between her legs, rubbing her clit with more force than before until she was writhing on him again, grinding on him greedily. “You want more?”  
  
“Yeah,” she swallowed, licking sweat from her upper lip. She felt Damian’s growl of pleasure rumble through her back, felt sweat sticking their bodies together in all the right places. Her arm lifted, hand curling into his dark hair, the other grasping the hand between his legs. He tangled his wet fingers with hers as his hips shifted upward again, too damned slow. More. She wanted more. Wanted to burn. Wanted him to fuck her until she couldn’t walk. Wanted him. Just him. Always him.   
  
The dark chuckle in her ear told her that she’d been thinking out loud again. She didn’t care.   
  
“ _Steph_ ,” he groaned and the sound of her name on his lips, as always, made a fire burst through her. He let go of her hand and grasp her hips with both hands and then… And then she was lost. Lost in the force of his body colliding with hers, lost in the feel of him inside of her, the friction, the heat, the pleasure, the bone-deep need for him. She was lost in the rush for completion, in the rumble of his moans as they echoed weirdly through her back, in the slide of her body atop his, in the way their bodies bounced on the bed.  
  
He wasn’t being gentle. She’d never needed that. He took her to the edge again, left her teetering there so long she wanted turn her head and bite him, and then, with another out-of-the-blue explosion that had her back bowing as she writhed over top of him, trapped in his arms, she careened over the edge and into an orgasm so intense she bit down on her tongue. Her hands grasped the sheets, fisting in the material and twisting as her eyes rolled back in her head again, mouth open on a moan too intense for actual sound. She stopped breathing, stop being Stephanie Brown, costumed vigilante, social worker, purple enthusiast, waffle addict, for a moment.

She existed only in a spilled salt glitter of the stars, in the solar flare of a dying sun, in the vortex of a black hole and when she came back to herself with a sudden rush of pleasure-wracked consciousness, shaking, gasping for air, she existed only in his arms.   
  
His hand was between her legs again, working her in wide circles as he ground his hips upward, clearly coming down from his own orgasm. He was breathing hard, but not as hard as she was. She clenched her hand over his and he withdrew it from between her legs, and then lowered his hips back down to the mattress. She hadn’t realized he’d lifted them both off of the bed until her feet touched down. He let out a breath and stretched his legs out, still clasping her to him as they breathed together.   
  
“Holy shit.”  
  
“Uh huh.”  
  
“I mean… _holy fucking shit._ ”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“Holy shit.”  
  
“You said that already.”  
  
“Well I mean it. 10/10. Would recommend,” she breathed, fighting a grin as he gripped her hips, and then pulled out of her. Everything was liquid heat. The air smelled like sex. Like Damian. She wallowed in it, wallowed in him, in his arms. In love. She rolled off of his chest and settled on her side, facing him this time. As always, her eyes took him in hungrily. She was gorgeous, from his dusky skin to his dark hair, that stubborn Wayne jaw and those impossible blue eyes that made her heart crash and bang in her chest. Damian stared up at the ceiling for a moment, slowly his breathing with a force of will. She watched as he pulled the condom off, tied a knot in it and then tossed it into her trash can without even looking at it, damn his perfection.  When he rolled over to face her, there was a glazed look in his eyes.   
  
She smiled at him and he smiled back, just barely, just enough to show dimples in his cheeks. He looked sated, and completely and utterly  _hers._    
  
His arm curled around her again and his fingers slowly caressed her naked back, drawing his name on her over and over. They breathed together, letting their pulses steady out, letting the darkness in her shuttered bedroom close in around them. For the first time since waking, she realized that she could hear Gotham City’s daily grind wailing from beyond her Old Town window. She didn’t care. It was the weekend. Let Gotham run itself for once.   
  
“Let’s just do this all day. Let’s just stay in bed and snuggle and be a great big warm sex burrito and order pizza or Chinese and just do it until neither one of us can walk and then do it some more and maybe you can give me a foot rub too, how about it?” she said as she lifted her head so he could slide his arm beneath it.  
  
“ _Sex burrito?_ ”  
  
“Don’t question me.”  
  
“Would it do me any good?”   
  
“Nope.” He grinned and pulled her closer.   
  
“I love you, Brown,” he rumbled and his mouth closing over hers in agreement. He kissed her slowly, lazily. The weekend stretched out in front of her, full of possibilities, full of _Damian_. She smiled against his mouth and kissed him back, savoring every minute, every touch, every taste of him she could get.  
  
And somehow, as always, it never seemed like enough.  
  
 _(end)_


End file.
